


Detroit Red Wings

by zibal_01



Series: Jonny Toews - Sexploits of a Hockey Superstar [6]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Abduction, BDSM, Chicago Blackhawks, Detroit Red Wings, M/M, Psychological Torture, Torture, Wordcount: 1.000-5.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-15
Updated: 2016-07-15
Packaged: 2018-07-24 03:56:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7492854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zibal_01/pseuds/zibal_01
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Chronologically, this is the first in the series, and the events set Jonny off on his path through the whole series.</p><p>Set during the Stanley Cup playoffs, 2013.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Detroit Red Wings

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PurplePitty616161](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PurplePitty616161/gifts).



> Chronologically, this is the first in the series, and the events set Jonny off on his path through the whole series.
> 
> Set during the Stanley Cup playoffs, 2013.

** Henrik Zetterberg & Pavel Datsyuk **

The first thing that Jonny had noticed as he had started to wake was how cold he was. The second, and more worrying thing, were the voices.

“Shouldn’t he be awake by now?” Voice number one queried. The accent was not North American, Jonny’s sluggish brain realised. Putting the dots together, Jonny decided that it was a Russian accent…

“He should be,” Voice number two confirmed. “I must have miscalculated the dosage… Or he might have lost some weight…” Swedish? Jonny thought.

“You could be right,” Voice number one agreed. “He doesn’t look as bulky as he did earlier in the season…” There was a long silence before voice number one continued, “Do you think he’s ok?”

“Maybe I should go in and find out…”

Jonny groaned, and pushed himself into a seated position. He blinked his eyes against the harsh lighting. Looking round, Jonny realised a number of things?

There were a number of reasons for him being cold:

  * He was naked
  * He was lying on a bare concrete floor
  * The room that he was in was cold



He was in a cage, which had floor to ceiling bars – in fact, they were integrated into the structure of the building. That worried Jonny. A lot of planning had gone into this.

There was only one door and no windows.

The voices belonged to Henrik Zetterberg and Pavel Datsyuk…

“Um, guys,” Jonny sounded confused, “what’s going on?”

Zetterberg grinned, evilly, “I… we decided that it was finally time to bring you home…”

Jonny frowned, “But, I’ve got games to play. You need to let me go…”

“Your season’s over, Jonny,” Zetterberg couldn’t hide the glee from his voice. “Without you, the Blackhawks don’t stand a chance against us.”

“But…”

“No more conversation. You can either be quiet, or I can make you be quiet…”

“And how are you going to do that?” Jonny asked softly.

“Do you really want to know?” Zetterberg stepped menacingly towards Jonny. Jonny stepped back even though there was bars between them. “Option one, I could gag you. You don’t really want that, because then I would also have to restrain you. And I’m sure you wouldn’t want to risk having the circulation to your hands reduced.” Zetterberg watched as Jonny shook his head. “Option two, I sedate you again. Again, probably not a good option. I have no idea what the effects of the sedative could be on your long-term health…” Jonny’s eyes widened with fear. Zetterberg continued, “Your final option is the easiest option for you – you keep your mouth shut. Agreed?”

Jonny nodded his agreement. He watched as Zetterberg and Datsyuk turned and left. After several minutes standing staring at the empty space where Zetterberg and Datsyuk had been standing, Jonny turned and looked more closely at his area. There was nothing he could use to help him escape. He was well and truly trapped. Resigned to his fate, Jonny moved to the far corner of the cage, slumping down. Pulling his knees into his chest, Jonny wrapped his arms around them, making himself as small as his 6’2” frame would allow him to. Dropping his head onto his knees, Jonny cried himself to sleep.

*****

When Jonny awoke, Zetterberg and Datsyuk were talking in hushed tones whilst watching him. He raised his head slowly, blinking his eyes into focus. Jonny’s cheeks were stained from where he had been crying, but he had no means to clean himself up. He tilted his head, so that his ear was resting on his knee, turned towards his captors. Licking his dry lips, Jonny spoke softly, “Can I go home now?”

Zetterberg glanced at Datsyuk, before smiling at Jonny, “Don’t you understand Jonny? You can never go home.”

“I won’t tell anyone,” Jonny pleaded. “Please… please let me go…”

“You won’t tell anyone?” Zetterberg quoted Jonny. “We can’t rely on you not telling anyone. How would you explain your disappearance? Your team is frantic… your family doing public appeals… and you tell us that you won’t tell anyone where you’ve been? That’s unlikely.”

“So what happens now?” Jonny asked.

“Now,” Zetterberg grinned evilly,” now, Pavel and I have some fun. Probably won’t be fun for you though…”

As Zetterberg approached the entrance to the cage, Datsyuk approached a blank looking section of wall. Jonny’s eyes widened when a control panel appeared from under the brickwork. After Datsyuk had pressed some buttons, there was a mechanical sound from above the centre of the cage. Jonny looked up in time to see a small section of the ceiling sliding back. This was followed by what looked like restraints being lowered from the cavity in the ceiling. The sound of the cage opening drew Jonny’s attention to where Zetterberg was. He was standing in the open doorway. Jonny was considering his options when he realised that Datsyuk had a gun pointed at his head.

“Don’t try anything stupid,” Zetterberg remarked. “Pavel is an excellent shot. Now, come here.” Zetterberg was in the centre of the cage, with the restraints hanging loosely in front of him. Jonny did as he was told, and Zetterberg quickly fastened the cuffs around Jonny’s wrists. A nod to Datsyuk, and the tension on the cuffs was tightened, raising Jonny’s hands above his head until he was almost at full stretch.

Jonny tried to surreptitiously test the strength of the restraints but Zetterberg noticed.

“There’s no escaping from them, Jonny, so don’t waste your energy trying.”

Jonny stopped. He had known before he had started that he would not escape, but, he had to try, didn’t he?

Zetterberg circled around Jonny, his fingertips brushing lightly over Jonny’s skin. Jonny had never felt so vulnerable…had absolutely no idea where Zetterberg was going with this… whatever… When Zetterberg stopped directly behind him, Jonny felt Zetterberg’s fingers stroking down his sides, stopping at his ass.

“You have beautiful muscle tone, Jonny,” Zetterberg muttered, “but you’ve lost some weight, yes?”

Jonny did not answer. Zetterberg’s warm hands on his cold skin were having an unwanted effect on Jonny. It was taking all of his concentration to stop his dick from hardening – because he really did not find this situation arousing.

“Toews,” Datsyuk growled, “answer the question.”

“Wh-wh-what question?” Jonny stuttered. He knew that he had now lost his iron control over his body. His body was going to react.

“You’ve lost some weight, yes?” Zetterberg asked again. He was standing in front of Jonny now, watching his reaction.

“Yes,” was all the reply that Jonny could muster.

“How much?” Zetterberg demanded. “What do you weigh now?”

Jonny shook his head to clear it, thinking about the question. “About 15lbs,” he replied. “I’m down to about 186lbs. Why?” Jonny was sure that he didn’t really want to know the answer to that question.

Zetterberg’s smile split his face, “For when we have to sedate you again.”

“Oh,” Jonny dropped his head, eyes focusing on his feet. He was not prepared for the next question out of Zetterberg’s mouth.

“So, you and Kane are in a relationship, yes?” Zetterberg cocked his head slightly, watching Jonny’s reaction. “You look at each other like Pavel and I do… I imagine that he will be lost without you. Tonight’s game will be an easy victory for us.”

“Patrick’s a professional,” Jonny snarled. “He’ll not let my disappearance put him off his game. In fact it’ll make him more determined to succeed. The rest of the team will be there for him.”

Zetterberg back handed Jonny across the face, stopping Jonny in his tracks. Jonny could feel blood trickle down his face from where his lip had been split. He smiled, knowing that he must have touched a nerve for Zetterberg to have reacted like that.

“You’re worried about Patrick,” Jonny mused. “You thought you could take me out of the equation and you would get your own way… you thought the Hawks would crumble.”

Zetterberg grabbed Jonny’s chin, grasping it tightly, forcing Jonny to make eye contact, “Then maybe we should get you some company.” He smiled as he saw all defiance drain from Jonny. Jonny’s eyes dropped, submissively.

“Please, leave Patrick out of this,” Jonny spoke softly. “I’ll… I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

Zetterberg looked as though he was considering this, “We’ll see,” Zetterberg replied. “We play tonight, and we’ll leave him alone. Depending on how you behave tomorrow, we’ll make a decision on whether or not you get company after the following game.”

Jonny nodded, “I’ll be good.”

“We’ll see if we agree with you tomorrow,” Zetterberg remarked.

“Henrik,” Pavel interjected, “we need to go now or we’ll be late.”

“Ok, Pavel,” Henrik acknowledged. “Lower Jonny’s arms for me.”

Datsyuk did as requested, lowering Jonny’s arms to allow Zetterberg to remove the restraints. Jonny remained still, allowing his hands to be freed. He stood, rooted to the spot, as Datsyuk activated the mechanism to raise the restraints back into the ceiling. He remained there as Zetterberg exited the cage. As the door closed behind Zetterberg and Datsyuk, Jonny finally moved, returning to the corner that he had previously favoured.

Jonny stood facing the corner. He rubbed his hands over his face, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this.

*****

The following morning, Jonny was awake when Zetterberg and Datsyuk entered his prison. He pushed himself to his feet, waiting to see what the day had in store for him.

“Good. You’re awake,” Zetterberg remarked as he opened Jonny’s cage. He stepped inside, indicating to Jonny to move to the centre of the cage. Jonny obeyed instantly. Zetterberg grasped Jonny’s wrists, placing them together in front of Jonny’s body. “Hold them there,” Zetterberg ordered as he reached into his pocket and drew out a cable tie. He used this to secure Jonny’s wrists then pushed him out of the cage.

Jonny stumbled slightly, before regaining his balance. Neither Zetterberg nor Datsyuk made a move to prevent Jonny from falling; Jonny filed that away for future reference. He had known that he would get no help from Zetterberg, but he had hoped that Datsyuk would be the weak link, would make a move to help him.

They led him upstairs, then downstairs, through a door into another basement room. This room was similar to Jonny’s prison in that it had one door and no windows, but there the similarities ended. Whereas Jonny’s prison was all about confinement, this room was designed for pain, or pleasure, depending on your sexual preferences. Jonny groaned. He knew how his body would react, would be unable to help it. This room was a dream come true for him. Well, except for the fact that he was with Zetterberg and Datsyuk…

“Like what you see, Toews?” Zetterberg’s words were harsh in Jonny’s ears. He could lie, but what was the point? His body was too busy telling the truth…

He blushed as he spoke, “Yes.”

“By the time I’m through with you, you’ll never want to see a room like this again,” Zetterberg snarled. “Pavel, can you fetch me one of the adjustable cock rings? Oh, and a knife…”

All the colour drained from Jonny’s face. The cock ring was not a problem, he’d been there, done that, and really quite enjoyed it. The knife, on the other hand, did not sound good…

“Relax,” Zetterberg spoke softly. “I’m just going to cut the cable tie.” He indicated the restraint around Jonny’s wrists. When Datsyuk returned to them, not only did he have the requested items, he also had a pair of regulation police handcuffs. “Good thinking, Pavel,” Zetterberg smiled softly. He cut the cable tie around Jonny’s wrists. Datsyuk, who was now standing behind Jonny, caught Jonny’s wrists and handcuffed him. Meanwhile, Zetterberg slid the cock ring onto Jonny’s dick and stroked him to hardness.

Datsyuk pushed Jonny roughly to his knees. “What first, Henrik?”

Henrik pursed his lips as he looked around the room. He had too much choice, “Do you want to fuck him?” Jonny flinched at the question.

“Not really my type,” Pavel replied. “You?”

“No,” Zetterberg rounded Jonny, standing behind him with Datsyuk. Gripping Jonny’s hair, he yanked Jonny’s head backwards, “although, I might make use of his mouth later.” Jonny’s eyes widened in horror.

“What if he bites?” Datsyuk asked.

“I’ll remove all his teeth with plyers,” Zetterberg replied. “You won’t bite me, will you Jonny?”

“No,” Jonny confirmed, his voice cracking on the single word. When Zetterberg released Jonny’s hair, he pushed him roughly, causing Jonny’s forehead to hit off the floor. Jonny felt the trickle of warm blood running down the side of his face. He blinked, trying to re-focus his eyes, knowing that a head knock could cause a return of the concussion that had plagued him the previous season.

“Ok, Pavel,” Henrik started, “what do you fancy for our “guest” today? Pleasure or pain?”

Pavel walked round in front of Jonny, lifting his head to make eye contact. “Let’s just make him suffer,” Pavel decided.

Zetterberg dragged Jonny to his feet, pulling him towards the St Andrew’s cross, which was against the centre of the room’s largest wall. Jonny started to struggle, pulling back against the hands on him.

“Remember Patrick,” Zetterberg hissed.

Chewing on his lower lip, Jonny nodded, moving meekly to where Zetterberg was taking him. He stood, meekly, as Datsyuk unfastened the handcuffs restraining him. He stepped into position, as directed by Zetterberg, and allowed himself to be strapped to the cross, all the while thinking of Patrick, and how much worse this would be if it was Patrick being strapped to the cross, if he had to watch Patrick suffering.

Once Zetterberg had secured Jonny, Datsyuk stepped up to Jonny. He ran his hands over Jonny’s back, the muscles rippling under his touch.

“Such beautiful skin, Jonny,” Datsyuk uttered. “A perfect blank canvas for Henrik to work on.”

“What are you thinking, Pavel?” Henrik asked, his hands joining Pavel’s on Jonny’s back. Jonny shivered, holding back a sob.

“I think I’ll start with the cat,” Henrik mused, “then, once he’s nicely warmed up, I’ll move onto the whip…”

“Please, no,” Jonny whimpered.

Zetterberg gripped Jonny’s hair, pulling his head back roughly. “I thought you were going to be a good boy, Jonny… or would you rather it was Patrick on here…”

“I’m sorry,” Jonny sobbed. “I’ll be better. Please… not Patrick…”

“That really does depend on you, Jonny,” Zetterberg hissed, “and, so far, you’re not really helping him.” Zetterberg released his grip, and turned to find Pavel holding a cat for him. It was the exact one that Henrik had been thinking of using: it had a thick, black leather handle, with a wrist strap. The tails were plaited red and black leather, with thick knots at the business end.

“Ten?” Henrik queried.

Pavel cocked his head to one side, considering this, “Yes, start with ten,” he agreed. “We’ll see how he does with that.”

“Ok, Toews, this is how this goes,” Zetterberg started, all business like, “we’re starting with ten strokes with a cat. You will count the strokes. If you fail to keep an accurate count I will re-start. You will remain silent other than the count. If you make any other sound I will re-start. Do you understand?”

Jonny nodded, afraid to speak.

Zetterberg smiled, “Any questions?”

“Why?” slipped between Jonny’s lips before he could stop it.

“Why what?” Zetterberg responded, although he knew exactly what Jonny was asking.

“Why are you doing this to me?” Jonny asked. “If it was just about the Cup you would leave me, locked up, in the other room. This… this is more personal…”

Zetterberg laughed, “Yes, Jonny, this is more personal. This is for all the times that you took pucks that should have been mine, for the goals you scored and assists on goals that cost us games…”

“This is because I’m better at my job than you?” Jonny interrupted, incredulity lacing his tone, and earning him a punch to the kidney for his troubles. He swayed against his restraints, biting his lip to remain silent.

“We’ll start with twenty,” Zetterberg sounded calm, “and take it from there. Don’t forget to count…”

The first stroke took Jonny by surprise. It was a lot harder than he expected, and hurt like hell. Tears welled in his eyes as he stuttered, “O-o-one…”

The second stroke overlapped the first, multiplying the pain by more than Jonny felt possible, “T-t-two…”

By the time they reached ten, Jonny was sobbing quietly, while trying to retain enough composure to count the strokes.

The eleventh stroke would have brought Jonny to his knees had he not been restrained. He was unsure if it was the stroke itself, or the stroke combined with the previous ten, but the pain was unbearable.

“Please… stop,” he sobbed, tears flowing freely now. He took large gulps of air, trying to regulate his breathing.

“Aw, Jonny, Jonny, Jonny,” Zetterberg couldn’t hide the faux disappointment in his voice. “I guess we’ll just have to start again.”

“No… please,” Jonny pleaded. “We can start from twelve… please… no more…”

“And that will be thirty,” Datsyuk commented. “Henrik, fetch the duct tape. Toews obviously doesn’t know how to be quiet.”

As Henrik fetched the duct tape, he replied, “Looks like Patrick will be joining us after all.”

“No… no,” Jonny started to struggle against his restraints, “no… not Patrick. Please… not Patrick,” he sobbed. “Not… Patrick…”

As they tried to tape over Jonny’s mouth, he continued to struggle, trying to use his head as a weapon, muttering, “Not Patrick” over and over. Eventually, Zetterberg caught Jonny in a headlock, allowing Datsyuk to apply the tape. This did not stop Jonny’s struggles. Nor did the re-commencement of the strokes.

This time, they reached thirty. Jonny’s cheeks were tear stained, sweat coated him. He was struggling to breathe, the tape over his mouth forcing him to breathe through his nose only.

The combination of the pain from the strokes that he had received, his struggling and lack of oxygen due to the tape caused Jonny to lose consciousness. He slumped, limp in his restraints.

“I think we may have overwhelmed him,” Pavel commented. “You’d better get him down from there, Henrik. We don’t want to lose him before he witnesses this happening to Kane.”

They freed Jonny’s ankles, then his wrists, letting him fall to the floor. Zetterberg removed the tape from Jonny’s mouth, rolling him onto his side.

After several minutes, Jonny started to show signs of coming round. He groaned, rolling onto his back – then back onto his side as the pain flared.

“What… happened?” he asked, softly. He opened his eyes, glancing round until his eyes lighted on Datsyuk. The Russian was smiling broadly at Jonny’s confusion.

“You blacked out, Toews,” Datsyuk sighed. “It was very disappointing. I thought that you were tougher than that.”

“On your feet,” Zetterberg ordered.

Ever so slowly, Jonny rolled onto his knees, then pushed himself to his feet. He stood, shakily, awaiting further instructions. None were forthcoming, leaving Jonny standing, wondering what was going to happen next…

Datsyuk and Zetterberg were talking in hushed tones. Jonny strained to hear what they were saying, but realised that it was some strange hybrid of Russian and Swedish. He wished that Hjalmarsson and Sami Lepistö, who spoke Russian even though he was Finnish, were there to help him out, but he wouldn’t wish his fate on anyone. It was bad enough that, in all likelihood, Patrick would be joining him, without any of the other players suffering.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity to Jonny, a hand landed heavily on his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. Zetterberg rounded Jonny, gripping Jonny’s hair to pull his head back. Zetterberg was smiling. He stroked his knuckles down Jonny’s cheek, then ran his fingertips over Jonny’s lips. Jonny’s eye widened, knowing what was coming next.

“Time to make use of that mouth of yours.” Zetterberg moved his hand from Jonny’s face to the zipper of his jeans. Jonny’s first instinct was to panic. He didn’t have a problem sucking dicks – he sucked Patrick’s on a regular basis – but he’d always had the option of saying no. Now, that had been taken away from him, and panicking would only make this harder than it was already going to be. As Zetterberg reached into his jeans to pull himself out, he continued, “All you need to do is keep still and keep your mouth and throat open.”

Jonny barely had time to open his mouth before Zetterberg was forcing his dick into it. Gagging as the dick hit the back of his throat, Jonny felt his gorge rise. He was going to be sick. Tears started to streak his cheeks as the panic really set in.

 _“I’m going to die,”_ Jonny thought, sobbing around his mouthful.

Zetterberg was relentless, slamming, forcefully, into Jonny’s mouth. Blood trickled from the corners of his mouth, mixing with the tears, which were flowing unchecked. Panic was gripping Jonny, his chest tightening. His vision started to blur, going dark around the edges…

With one final thrust, Zetterberg unloaded down Jonny’s throat. He released his grip on Jonny’s hair, withdrawing from Jonny’s mouth. Without Zetterberg holding him up, Jonny collapsed forward.

Jonny barely had a chance to catch his breath before he vomited.

“Aw, Jonny,” Datsyuk drawled. “You’ve made a mess. Henrik, can you get the fuck machine?”

“The w-w-what?” Jonny stammered, terror written all over him.

Zetterberg smiled evilly as he patted Jonny on the head. “You’ll soon find out…”

“You’d better get the spanking bench as well, Henrik,” Datsyuk instructed.

Henrik retrieved both pieces of equipment. He positioned the spanking bench first, and then set about restraining Jonny. Jonny struggled, but it was more a token gesture than a realistic attempt to escape, and it didn’t take long for Zetterberg to secure him.

“Shall I gag him?” Zetterberg asked Datsyuk.

Datsyuk cocked his head, looking thoughtful. Finally, he spoke, “No. I want to hear him scream.”

Zetterberg lined up the fuck machine under Datsyuk’s watchful eye. Jonny tensed as he felt the business end of the machine press against his hole. He knew this would hurt, he hurt already, but, this, this would be a different kind of hurt.

The machine started…

Jonny screamed. Datsyuk had ensured that the largest attachment was used, tearing Jonny as it entered him.

The machine kept moving, penetrating Jonny more deeply when Datsyuk moved it closer to Jonny, accelerating when Datsyuk pressed a button on the body of the machine.

Jonny hurt. His mouth was sore from where Zetterberg had raped it; his throat ached from screaming; the skin on his back felt shredded; and, his ass was killing him. The only upside was that his blood was acting as a lubricant for the machine. Jonny passed out…

*****

The following morning, Zetterberg slipped out of bed before Datsyuk was awake. He crept from the room, heading down to the basement where Jonny was caged.

Entering the basement, Zetterberg flicked on the light, and stepped towards Jonny.

Jonny’s body was coated in a thin sheen of sweat and blood. He looked flushed, but was shivering. Stepping even closer, Zetterberg realised that Jonny was delirious, mumbling non-sense. His back wounds were weeping, and infection riddling his body. In his weakened state, Jonny had no reserves to call on to fight to survive.

Guilt flooded through Zetterberg. It had not been his intention for Jonny to die.  He pulled his mobile from his pocket, and made a call. Opening the cage, Zetterberg moved inside, to sit with Jonny, until help arrived.

*****

The first thing that Jonny noticed as he started to wake was the incessant “bleeping” sound. Then, he realised that he was no longer cold, and was lying on something comfortable.

He noticed that the pain was still there, although it was not as bad as it had been, and that he was no longer feverish. Jonny felt a hand stroking through his hair, but it was comfortable and familiar, so he did not feel threatened. Then the hand’s owner spoke, and Jonny panicked: Patrick.

Jonny’s eyes sprang open and he tried to sit up. Patrick sprung from his seat at Jonny’s bedside, rushing to find a doctor.

 _“Hospital,”_ Jonny realised. _“How?”_

Patrick returned moments later with the doctor who was in charge of Jonny’s care. While the doctor was examining Jonny, Patrick waited outside the room, phone in hand. He had to let Stan know that Jonny had woken up.

The doctor helped Jonny to sit up. As he checked Jonny, he advised him of the treatment that he had received; the surgery to repair his internal injuries; the antibiotics to fight the infections; stitches – lots of them; and, finally, the medically induced coma that he had been placed in to help his body recover.

“How long was I out?” Jonny asked, his voice cracking due to a dry throat and a lack of use. The doctor held a cup of iced water for him as he sipped it through a straw.

“You were under for a week,” the doctor started. “We had concerns about your internal injuries, so it was in your best interest to be under.”

“And my back?” This was Jonny’s main concern. If his back was permanently damaged he would not be able to play again.

“Your back is fine. There’s some scarring, but nothing that’ll effect your game.”

Jonny managed to smile weakly. The sooner he could get back on the ice the better. “And the Hawks? Did they beat the Wings?”

“There’s someone here who can answer all your hockey questions…” The doctor signalled for Patrick to return, then left them.

Patrick stood anxiously at the side of Jonny’s bed. Jonny looked ok, but there was a dark shadow in his eyes, which had not been there prior to being abducted.

“Did we win?” Jonny asked.

“Yeah,” Patrick replied, eyes sparkling with joy. He turned sombre, “We did it for you, Jonny. We knew we’d get you back…”

“How…” Jonny coughed. Patrick held the drink for him. “How did I get here?”

“Zetterberg turned himself in,” Patrick started. “I don’t think that Datsyuk was very happy with him.”

The colour drained from Jonny’s face as the memories of his captivity re-surfaced. The physical assault had been horrific, but the threats against Patrick were worse. They really turned him cold. He knew what he had to do, and he knew that Patrick wouldn’t be happy, but he had to protect him.

Jonny could feel the sting of tears burning his eyes. He loved Patrick, but the need to keep him safe was greater than the need to be with him. When he spoke, his voice was little more than a whisper. “I’m really sorry, Pat, but I can’t do this anymore. I… I love you, but I… I can’t risk you getting hurt…” Tears flowed down Jonny’s cheeks.

Patrick could not believe his ears. “You’re… you’re breaking up with me? Jonny, what happened to you?”

Jonny turned his head away. “I’m sorry…”

“Ok,” Patrick sounded lost. He was holding back his own tears. “I… I’d better go now…”

Then, Jonny was alone. Well, alone except for his thoughts. Patrick would be safe now. Jonny could relax. Except, he knew that he couldn’t. Patrick helped him to decompress after games, offered him comfort and support after defeats, and helped him to celebrate wins. His life would change, but he would be ok. He knew enough players throughout the league who would be willing to help him decompress. He had had offers in the past. Now… well, now he would be taking those offers up…

 


End file.
